


Blood on my hands

by Rosaliss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Distrust, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Melancholy, but not emotionally, first wizarding war, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 22:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19964170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosaliss/pseuds/Rosaliss
Summary: "He looked so young. They were young, for Merlin's sake, too young for all this shit. Only twenty-one. In the dim light, Remus looked even younger. His old scars looked new, pink and fresh where they crossed Remus's face. He looked so fragile and naked. Vulnerable."





	Blood on my hands

Sirius arrived home when it was already dark. He struggled to open the door. His hand was hurting like hell and he kept it close to his chest as he tried to get the spell right with his other hand, the one he didn't use.

The small flat was dark too when he stepped inside. The only light in the room came from the lampposts out in the street and reversed inside, drawing the window silhouette on the floor. Sirius closed the door with a kick and dropped the wand on the table.

"Where were we the first time I told I loved you?"

Sirius winced and turned around. On the couch, his figure dark against the window, was Remus. His face couldn't be seen from where Sirius was standing, but his body was rigid, his arms crossed, wand in hand. On his lap an open book that he wasn't reading.

"Shit, Moony! I didn't see you there," Sirius said.

"Answer the question."

"You know it's me."

He couldn't see his face, but he could sense the annoyed look on it, he could imagine it clearly in his head.

"Where were we the first time I told you I loved you?" Remus repeated, voice cool and firm.

Sirius sighed. "In our dorm, after that fight with Snivellus and his friends, seventh year. I got hurt and you freaked out and let it slip."

"I let it slip," Remus said. He stayed in his position on the couch for a moment longer, then he got up.

Sirius stared at him while he stepped into the light. He didn't look annoyed, just tired, as he walked up to Sirius. His expression changed when he saw his hand.

"What did you do?" Remus asked, reaching for Sirius's hand.

Sirius let him inspect it, the bloody knuckles and the fingers twisted in pain. He kept his eyes on the hand, too, instead of looking at Remus.

"It's nothing."

"I thought you didn't have to go on a mission today, I thought you just had to go talk to James. Did something happen? Are they all right?"

"They're fine."

"What happened, then? Were you attacked on your way home?"

Sirius grimaced at the sound of that word coming out of Remus's mouth. Home.

No, Sirius hadn't gone to a mission. No, he hadn't been attacked on his way back. Yes, he had talked with James.

James, who was hiding from the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time with his wife and their son. James, who had asked Sirius to be his Secret-Keeper to protect them.

"Nothing happened."

"Did your hand spontaneously wounded itself?"

Sirius didn't answer, but he did finally raise his eyes to meet Remus's, wide and earnest and hurt. And he hated himself for being the cause of that hurt, even if only in part.

"Come with me," Remus said, pushing Sirius lightly towards the kitchen sink.

He drew out his wand again, turned on the light and then and pointed it at Sirius's hand. "Tergeo," he whispered. They both watched as the blood and dust on his knuckles disappeared. When that was done, Remus opened one of the cupboards and pulled out an old box full of phials and ampoules, many of which were old themselves, half-empty, dusty. He let his fingers trail on the various corks until he found the bottle he needed.

"Stay still," he said, and he dipped a finger in the vial and spread the liquid on the back of Sirius's hand.

Sirius cursed under his breath at the first prang of pain but bit his lip and didn't say anything, he just watched as Remus took care of his wound. He didn't look at the hand, as before; he looked at Remus.

Even with the light on, the room was barely lit. Shadows were playing on Remus's face, hiding his eyes from Sirius. He was so close that he could feel his breath on his hand, feel his skin tingle with the proximity, and all he wanted to do was tilt Remus's head up with his good hand and kiss him.

He didn't.

He just watched Remus's eyelids as he put the potion on his damn hand.

"You know, I don't want to be nosy or pressure you, I just—I get worried. There's a war out there, and you come here with blood on your fingers and—"

"Why, do you think that I don't get worried? Because I do. I get worried every single day, every moment that we spend apart, every time that you go with the werewolves. You're worried for a little bit of blood on a hand. What should I say when you come home from the woods with your clothes ripped and stained red and more scars?"

"You know that it's my job as a member of the Order to—"

"I know, I know what your fucking job is, and I can accept it, but I can't like it."

"Nothing will happen to me."

"You don't know that. I don't like it when you put yourself in danger, and I don't like it when—"

I don't like it when you spend time with the other werewolves. When you go to their meetings. When you bond with them. With the enemy.

"I'm a spy."

"I know."

Remus put the cork back on the bottle and the bottle back in the box, then he took his wand and whispered, "Ferula". A white bandage appeared around Sirius's hand.

Remus raised his eyes to look into Sirius's.

He looked so young. They were young, for Merlin's sake, too young for all this shit. Only twenty-one. In the dim light, Remus looked even younger. His old scars looked new, pink and fresh where they crossed Remus's face. He looked so fragile and naked. Vulnerable.

They were only twenty-one, and they were fighting a war that was bigger than them, and James and his family were in danger and Sirius had told him that he wasn't the right choice for a Secret-Keeper, too easy for Voldemort to figure out, better let someone else do it, better let Peter do it, because Sirius loved Remus but didn't trust him and went and punched a brick wall instead of talking to him.

Remus's hand was hovering over Sirius's wrist as if he was pondering whether touching him was a good idea or not. He looked as if he was about to say something. He opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed. He opened his mouth again. Hesitated. "Let's go to bed," he said. His hand fell to his side.

Sirius let out a long breath. "Yeah."

They changed into their pyjamas in silence and climbed into bed without a word. The heavy, dark curtains were closed, the room was dark. Maybe that was the reason. They were tired and too young.

Once they were under the covers, Sirius leaned his head on the back of Remus's neck and put an arm around his waist, careful not to hurt his injured hand. Remus leaned into the touch.

Sirius shut his eyes closed. He just wanted things to go back to when they were kids at Hogwarts, when they would sleep in each other's bed every night without this feeling of dread, when all they needed to do was open the red curtain of the bed to see James sprawled on the mattress beside theirs, hair a mess, mouth open, and not a thought in his mind. When they were always together and trusted each other blindly. He hoped that those days would come back. He hoped that James would be safe and Remus loyal, he hoped that Peter would be a good Secret-Keeper. He just hoped he'd done the right choices and that everything would end, soon and happily.

He didn't know if he believed in his hopes.

He just held Remus tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Isn't it the saddest thing, that at the end Remus didn't trust Sirius and Sirius didn't trust Remus?


End file.
